


i n a d e q u a t e

by HufflepuffleMarauder



Category: Kung Fu Panda (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffleMarauder/pseuds/HufflepuffleMarauder
Summary: After all they'd done, was it ever enough?
Relationships: Furious Five - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	i n a d e q u a t e

Was it ever enough? 

The question floated whimsically through their minds on a daily basis. Hatred and deprecation running its course together with the harsh words making them pose this question. Statements concerning their faults and tribulations that only served to heighten anxiety over it. Anxiousness causing reactions they’d never dare speak of; because warriors didn’t cry. 

Though even claiming the question floated through was a light term for it, one of them would always say, closing her eyes at the incoming truth, the reminder they were insufficient. She described it different. 

In reality, it was a tsunami. 

_The waves are crashing down on you and me_

They were on the same boat. And the boat was sinking. 

_I’ll see you on the other side_

Sometimes the waves weren’t so bad, and they were simply treading heavy water, only just staying afloat amidst the storm. But when the water became angry, it lashed out and engulfed with no remorse. It was, as one of them described it, like drowning. He said it quietly in candlelight, face hidden on shadow. How ironic it was, he remarked, that even so high in the sky the water filled his lungs. 

Another one had a different analogy, saying that it was as if he was being stamped on repeatedly, flattened into the ground, so far down he could not get up. It was a cynical running joke between them due to the rationality of his fear, but really there was no joke. The statement hit too close to open wounds. 

_Still living in the_ _currents_ _you create_

They couldn’t help but become a little... down, sometimes. The feeling of being so small, so worthless, so confined – was no one’s fault but theirs. If they were enough none of this would be a problem. They wouldn’t be disappointments. 

_Still sinking in the pool of your mistakes_

Maybe they’d strike pride in him. 

If it was any consolation, they weren’t alone. They were _they_ after all, tied together like glue in the fame of their accomplishments and petty defeats. The defeats, one of them said, could not be joked about. He’d tried in the years previous, but found words like daggers instantly cutting through any resonant belief of inner-strength. 

At least they weren’t alone. 

_They lie together_

_Oil on water_

The boat sank as they grappled to find the light at the end of the tunnel, clawing at the walls. And there was none to be seen. The darkness they were kept in blinded their senses and brew bitterness in the most unlikely of places. So unlikely that even the kindest member harboured her own ill philosophy on their bruised names. It was lucky their names were forbidden to be said, none of them wanted that tarnish upon their families, the disappointment of failure and the hatred of those they could never save. Even between each other, they didn’t deserve names. 

This constant failure grew a distance borne out of bitterness and insecurity. A distance that, as far as they knew, could never be sewn up. And they questioned if they even _wanted_ it sewn up. If they were never good enough then what was the point? Because while yes, they had each other, it was five against one. And that one had more control over them than anyone would ever know, why would they want to bridge that gap. 

_Don’t pin it all on me_

Innocent villagers died, numerous times. 

And that was the worst part. The knowledge that those burning incense sticks were as a result of their inability to _be better._ Or at least, enough. Inadequacy could not be tolerated, especially in battle. 

When, in due time, they were dead and gone, buried deep within the ground they walked on, nothing would last. All that remained of previous masters who never surpassed expectations were skulls and bones. A legacy? Not really, a small title maybe. Scribbled in the middle of an informative paragraph, only to be seen if squinted at. Squeezed between the historic reputation of the ones who deserved it. If they kept up with their pathetic insufficiency, this would most definitely be their fate. 

Because they weren’t enough. 

Mantis’ bravery showed through. “I guess we... I guess we were right.” He muttered. 

Dipping her head down in defeat, Viper sighed. “That was my greatest fear.” 

No joke to be made, Monkey spoke soberly. “I - I hate this... we were never – never...” 

Crane’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hat. “We could have _died.”_ He whispered. 

“We _should_ have died.” Tigress said, and the others couldn’t find it in themselves to try and disagree with her, after all, she was right. 

She was only voicing the words thrown at them 

“Shifu was right.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from the songs The Waves, The Currents, Oil on Water and Blame by Bastille
> 
> This can all be left up to interpretation


End file.
